In Memorium Ad Infinitum
by paganpunk2
Summary: Nightwing and Batman stop by the Hall of Heroes to impart a lesson about remembrance to Nightwing's young son. Memorial Day special short. K for discussion of war and death.


**Author's Note: Here's a little something just for Memorial Day, featuring a future Nightwing, his son Phoenix, and a future Batman. For the record, they are intended to be the direct descendants of Dick and Bruce, respectively. Happy reading!**

* * *

"...I've been saving this," Nightwing explained to the boy at his side as they passed through a door, "especially for today."

"What _is_ this place?" the masked nine-year-old inquired, his voice awed.

"This is the Hall of Heroes. This is where the memories of all those who have gone before us rest."

"Woooww..."

He let his son stand still for a moment, well able to understand his amazement. He had been just as stunned his first time here, and had needed to drink in the vastness of the room before stepping any further into it. "...Are you ready?"

"We're not leaving already?!"

"No," he laughed. "Far from it. Come on, and I'll show you why we're here."

As they strolled down the many corridors of statues Nightwing couldn't help but notice that his protege stuck close to his hip. He was nervous, no doubt, but in a way that was proper; there was more greatness of power and of heart in this space than should technically have been containable, and the air practically thrummed with solemnity as a result. He took care to point out their own ancestors along the way as well as those of relations and close friends, trying to build a link between the past and the present.

"...There sure are a lot of Nightwings," a comment was made as they wove their way back to where the oldest statues stood. "A lot of Batmans, too."

"It's a good, long line," a new voice rumbled. "You should be proud to be part of it, Phoenix."

"...Are you proud to be part of the Batman line?" the child asked as he recognized one of the several men he had known as 'uncle' since birth.

"Very much so. The current Red Robin and Red Hood – your aunt and cousin – are equally proud of their heritage."

"So...how many have there been? Nightwings, I mean?"

"I'm the fifth," the man in question replied. "Batman's the sixth Batman. That's assuming you don't count fill-ins, of course."

"...'Fill-ins'?"

"People who wear your mask temporarily while you are unavailable or on a break," Batman came back in. "For instance," he gestured to the sculpture of the original Earth Nightwing, "the founder of your line once stood in for the founder of mine for over a year."

"That's a long time."

"It is," the cowled figure's lip twitched. "...Have you shown him the connection yet, Nightwing?"

"No. We were just getting to that. You know that story better than I do, though, so go ahead."

"I ought to know it better, since I'm the one who told it to you when you were still Phoenix." He crouched down to the boy's level. "Do you see the face of your ancestor?"

"Um...yes."

"And do you see the face of mine? Of the original Batman?"

"Right across the way, right?"

"Correct."

"Then yes."

"Do you notice anything about them?"

"...It's like they're staring at each other. But none of the others do that, do they?"

"Not like those two do," Nightwing nodded. "You're right, Phoe."

"How did _that_ happen?"

Batman shifted, then launched into his story. "According to my great-grandfather – that's the second Batman, whose real name I'll tell you at the barbeque later if you remind me – there's no good explanation. Not a scientific one, at least. When I was no older than you are now, he told me about them. He told me the story of their lives, and how they were closer than any other people he ever met. He said it seemed that they could talk to one another through their masks without making a sound.

"Now, they both had long, celebrated careers, but eventually the time came for each of them to pass their masks on to the next generation. They were auxiliaries in retirement, providing remote assistance to their children and grandchildren in the field, until the Determination occurred."

"The Determination?" Phoenix frowned. "What's that?"

Batman lifted his head to Nightwing, seeming to wait for parental consent to continue. "It was a big, nasty conflict between Earth and an alien species," the younger man filled in the basics. "That's all you need to know to understand the story." Eugenics, slavery, and all of the other things that still made the Determination pure nightmare fuel almost a century after it had happened would wait until his audience was older.

"Right. A war," Batman agreed. "Now, when the Determination began, the retired Batman and Nightwing decided that they weren't going to sit around and be just voices on the radio. Instead, they put their masks back on and rushed to one of the many battlefields on which the war was being fought. My great-grandfather, who saw them fighting, said that despite their ages infirmities they fought as if they had become young again. For a few hours they reclaimed the title that had first been applied to them, and them alone; the Dynamic Duo was back, and better than ever.

"But it couldn't last. They made a difference in the outcome of the war, to be sure, but under their sudden bursts of youthfulness they were still men past their prime. That's partially why, during the fighting in Johannesburg on the second morning of the Determination, they died."

"Oh..." Phoenix pouted. "That's sad."

"My great-grandfather didn't think so."

"He didn't? Why not?"

"Because he knew them, and he said that that was what they would have wanted. To die in battle, and more importantly, to die together."

"...They were _that_ close?" the boy asked, his tone suggesting that such a thing didn't seem possible.

"They were that close," Batman verified. "And now we come back to their statues. Having been active heroes for decades, and having died protecting Earth and her inhabitants, they were naturally given places here in the hall. Superman – the current Superman, by the way, there's only been one of him – insisted that they be put side-by-side. They tried, but there wasn't enough room, and as a result they had to put them across from each other."

"Wait, why wasn't there enough room? This place is huge!"

"It is, but it was smaller then. Much smaller."

"Oh. Okay. So they went across from each other?"

"Yes. They put Batman's statue up first, because he was older and one of the founding members of the League. When they put Nightwing up, though, Superman was unhappy again. He said they should have been looking at each other, but they weren't. Somehow in the process of sculpting his memorial his head had been turned from the intended angle, and ended up looking over Batman's shoulder.

"Now, some people thought that Superman was making too big of a deal out of it. Others, like my great-grandfather, agreed with him. It was a major point of debate for several days. Then something happened that no one has ever been able to quite explain.

"Superman, who had been great friends with both Batman and Nightwing and was very much still in mourning for them, came down to visit on the eighth day after the statues had been raised. When he arrived he looked up, expecting to see the same poorly-directed stare that he'd been railing against for a week. Instead," he pointed upwards, "he found them exactly as they are now."

"They'd _moved?_" Phoenix gasped. "Like...all on their own?!"

"That's how it seemed. There were no marks to suggest that someone had manually adjusted their heads, and what's more is that their facial expressions had changed, too. As you were walking through earlier, did you notice that none of the others are smiling?"

"Yeah. They all look super serious."

"Right. But not these two."

"Weeeeird..."

Nightwing picked out the clever smirk on his forebear's face and the answering uptick at one corner of the Batman statue's mouth. The same little thrill that had run through him when the man now kneeling beside his son had first told him the story some twenty years before did so again. "Fire and brimstone," he murmured.

"...Huh?"

"Fire and brimstone," the current Batman repeated. "My great-grandfather didn't believe in ghosts or anything like that, but he couldn't help but believe in the strength of their love for each other. They would have fought their way through anything, through the heart of the earth itself, for one another, or so he, Superman, and the very few others who still remembered them personally when I was a boy used to claim. Once you know that about them, it doesn't seem so far-fetched that their statues would make sure they could keep an eye on each other for centuries to come, now does it?"

"Huh-uh," the child shook his head, looking just as astounded as he had been when they'd first entered the memorial space. "That's _amazing_. Even if it isn't very scientific, it's amazing." Leaning forward, he plastered himself over the black-clad man in a hug. "Thank you for telling me that story."

"That story, and a billion others like it, are the reason I waited until now to bring you down here," Nightwing shared. "You know what today is, right?"

Phoenix turned back to him as Batman stood. "It's Memorial Day."

"And what's today for?"

"Well...I mean, there's a lot of stuff happening today."

"There is, but the most important thing is this," he waved his arm to indicate the entirety of the hall. "Today is the day to remember the names and the stories of those who have fallen to defend our freedom. The men and women you see here, just like those unmasked soldiers whose names are inscribed on war memorials or whose names were never known, are absolute heroes. The sales, the day off, the barbeques...those things are great, Phoe, but as you're enjoying them keep in mind that you wouldn't have any of them, or much of anything else that you're used to having, without the brave sacrifices made by so many others."

He knelt down then and let his hands rest on the boy's shoulders. "...Remember them, and this day, and the story you were just told," he encouraged. "If you do that, and if you try to be the best person and the best Phoenix you can be, you'll be giving them the honor that they deserve. Understand?"

His son's eyes were hidden, but he didn't have to see them to know that they were full of the heavy task that had just been assigned. "I understand, daddy," a sincere whisper promised. "I'll remember. And I'll try to be the best I can be, too."

"Good. I'm glad." He paused. "Maybe someday you'll bring your own child here, and tell them the same thing you've been told today."

"D'you think Robin could help then, like Uncle Batman did just now?"

Both adults chuckled, well aware that Phoenix idolized his teenaged cousin and was adored in turn. "I'm sure he'll be happy to help," Nightwing assured. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you want to look around a little more, or are you ready to go?"

"I'm...I'm ready to go. But I have a question."

"Hmm?"

"Well...we're going to the family barbeque later, right?"

"Right."

"So...they're buried there, right? I mean, you know...the civilian them?"

"They are," Batman confirmed. "Out in the old family cemetery."

"Could...could we go see them there, too? And the others? Please?"

"...I don't see why not. Dying in masks doesn't make them any less of heroes as civilians. Nightwing? What do you think?"

"I think that sounds great," he nodded, overcome by his offspring's proposal. He had been obsessed with the story of his and Batman's predecessors for years, but it had never occurred to him to visit the long-dead men buried in the Wayne cemetery. "That's a good idea, Phoe."

"...You should know," the cowled figure said thoughtfully, "that Superman and my great-grandfather got their wish at the civilian cemetery. They're side-by-side there."

"That's good," the boy ruled. "If they can't look at each other, they should be next to each other. I think so, at least."

"I think so, too," the older man agreed. "If you want, we could go see them now. We have time, and Robin might like to join us."

"There's nothing pressing on our plates," Nightwing reflected. "...What do you think, chum?"

Phoenix looked up at him and smiled. "Could we? I don't want them to feel forgotten today."

"Then let's go," he nodded, pleased. "That way they'll know that they're _never_ forgotten."


End file.
